Spring's Dirty Truth: Behind Every Bloom Is Manure
Ostara and the Parts of Ourselves We’d Rather Skip
Spring gets framed as the season of blossoms, pastel hope, fresh starts, and birds landing on our shoulders singing Disney songs. Everything looks bright and full of possibility. It’s easy to think this season is about becoming lighter and prettier.
But real spring is not that tidy.
It’s mud. It’s thaw. It’s damp soil, strange smells, and things pushing up through the ground after sitting in darkness for a long time. The beauty comes, yes, but not without the mess that feeds it.
That’s part of what Ostara brings to mind for me.
At the spring equinox, light and dark are in balance. The new growth doesn’t come from rejecting the dark, but from learning how to live with what it showed us through the winter months. That kind of honesty, although it can be blunt, is a more abundant way to live than constant self-rejection.
We like the flowers. We like the symbolism of new beginnings. We like the part where everything starts looking hopeful again.
What we tend to skip is the fact that growth usually comes with decomposition, discomfort, and at least one moment where life smells like manure.
That’s true in gardens, and it’s true in us.
A lot of us want healing to look graceful. We want growth to feel inspiring, sparkling, and photogenic.
We want to say we are becoming more ourselves, but we don’t always want to sit with the envy, grief, shame, fear, awkward truth, or old patterns that get stirred up when they begin peeking out of the darkness into the light.
But that uncomfortable compost is not always a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes the work is not to get rid of it quickly, but to trust yourself enough to stay present and listen for what is changing in you.
Sometimes the very thing we want to skip is what feeds the next season of our lives. The truth we avoided. The habit that finally stopped working. The sadness we never really let thaw. The anger that festers inside without resolve.
Ostara, at least the way I feel it, is not just about welcoming the light back with a smile and a flower crown. It’s about noticing what the returning light reveals, then resisting the urge to panic when it’s not all beautiful.
More light may comfort us, but it also shows us things that we may or may not want to acknowledge.
It shows us what has been germinating below the surface. It shows us where we’ve been performing instead of living. It shows us where we’ve outgrown an old identity. This in-between stage is rarely elegant.
Still, that does not make it bad.
The spiritual community can sometimes pressure us to believe everything should be perfect, or at least positive by now. All wounds are healed. Everything is in alignment and glowing in soft natural light.
But real life is earthier than that. Real growth is not built on good vibes alone. It is built on honesty, willingness, and the grace of letting what no longer serves us break down. Maybe that is part of abundance too, not looking impressive, but becoming more real.
This is also shadow work. A shadow should not be viewed as a personal failure. So, we shouldn’t try to exile the messy parts of ourselves to earn our bloom.
Instead, we need to recognize that what feels inconvenient, embarrassing, sensitive, or unresolved may be part of what makes us more whole.
Spring doesn’t require we become spotless, it inspires us to come alive. And living is not always neat. But, when we allow ourselves to grow naturally, with manure and all, we will bloom into our true, beautiful selves.
🔄 SimpleShift: Ostara’s Manure to Bloom
Ask yourself: What part of me have I been treating like waste, when it may actually be part of my growth?
Maybe it’s a feeling you keep trying to rise above.
Maybe it’s a truth you’ve been trying to stay too evolved to admit.
Maybe it’s a part of your story that still feels messy, awkward, or unfinished.
You do not need to fix it all today, but stop calling it worthless.
If you want a simple practice, answer these two prompts:
What part of me have I been treating like waste, when it may actually be part of my growth?
What changes when I stop rejecting that part and start meeting it with honesty?
Let the answers be unedited. This kind of honesty is the light that comes with spring.
Join the Conversation
What part of your life feels messy right now, but may actually be turning into new growth?
Sometimes the part we want to skip is the very part leading us back to ourselves.
In Love and Light,
Merdhin
If this post is stirring something in you, I made a free companion for it: Ostara Reflection Journal 🌱 What Wants to Grow This Spring.
It includes reflection prompts and a simple spring intention page to help you sit with what feels messy, notice what may already be growing, and choose one thing to tend this season.
As a person I once knew wrote in paint on my front door, it takes a lot of smelly manure to grow beautiful flowers. The seeds get planted, nurtured, watered, then the waiting and the tending in the barren months...then birth, then life and abundance and flowers and plants blooming madly in spring and summer. For many reasons, this spring is especially special to me. Winter was seriously challenging on several levels and maintaining a calm and inner joy was tested at times. Then I saw the almond trees budding and the flowers blooming and bees buzzing in pollination.. My wisteria in my front yard is wildly in bloom with an overwhelming luxurious fragrance. Is stop each morning and evening and revel in joy of just being with the wisteria. OK, I'm meandering....Ah spring....